


Fading Out

by DoubleMastectomy



Category: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23236222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleMastectomy/pseuds/DoubleMastectomy
Summary: After spending his whole life in traumatic a world ruled by BL/i, Val Velocity struggles to actually move on now that they're gone. And a year later, settled into a comfortable and carefree lifestyle, the horrors of his past still sneak up on him in ways he's not used to.Basically a Val Velocity has a flashback fic.
Relationships: Val Velocity/Vinyl
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Fading Out

Val flinches awake in the pitch black. His heart continues to pound from his nightmare as he struggles to orient himself.

He’s in the bedroom of a single story shotgun house in Zone Five. An old and forsaken building that he and Vinyl had renovated before moving into together. That’s where he is now, he knows this.

It’s summer 2040, a year since the BL/i collapse. He knows this too.

But Val’s trembling heart doesn’t know it. In this dense darkness, still half asleep, it nags him about dangers long concluded. It tells him as valiantly as it can that there’s still a threat. That BL/i is still out there, Korse is still out there, drac patrols, scarecrows, spies or informants, it’s all so imminent now, that he’d be hurt, that he’d be killed, and even as he tries to reason with himself, _It was just a dream-_

As he tries to reason with himself, _It's in the past-_

As he tries to reason, _It’s not real anymore-_

The hot adrenaline in his limbs feels all too substantial, too tangible, more certain than even the roof above him or the bed under him or Vinyl laying beside him. No, he could almost laugh, that’s all too perfect, too fake, too obviously artificial.

His grip on the present day is weak. Val knows this. He’s having a flashback. He can feel his past clawing up his back and he wonders, vexed, shouldn’t he be over it by now?

He forces himself upright and forward to the edge of the bed, crossing his legs under himself. As if the movement would provide any relief.

The shadows dancing around the edge of his vision mock Val for convincing himself he’d be free from this.

The bedside lamp behind him clicks on (they’d been blessed enough with electricity this week) and floods the room with a dim warm glow. But he can’t persuade himself to turn or acknowledge Vinyl, now surely awake.

Val just stares straight ahead as if in rigor mortis, shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. And when Vinyl sits up and skims a tired worried hand over his spine, Val distinctly flinches but otherwise remains unresponsive.

As expected, Vinyl is instantaneously by his side. His tired eyes are awash with distressed concern as he gently turns Val’s face toward him, establishing eye contact and looking him over.

Val tries to speak up but his dry mouth is out of words. And suddenly he’s all too aware of being observed. He’s self conscious of how uneven his breath is and how panicked he’s sure he looks, his eyes are wide and his mouth agape, only inches away from Vinyl’s. He’s stifling hyperventilation. He’s shutting down. He tries to look away, ashamed to be seen like this.

But the shadows around him, made more dramatic by the light, are suffocating. He feels trapped by this room, feels trapped by his mind, and now the love of his life is _looking_ at him.

Vinyl lightly massages Val’s shoulders, trying to relax them, trying to ground him. But Val is too distant and paranoid. His washed-out dream echoes through his mind:

It was almost too simple. He’d been back there again at the Nest, endlessly hunted by BL/i. Back when Volume had still been there. And though Val _knew_ Volume would be _gone_ again soon, there was nothing he could do about it as the city closed in on them at an agonizingly gradual but definite pace.

Like a prayer, he persistently repeats to himself that it wasn’t real -he’s _safe_ now- but how can he be sure? (he’s safe now) The city is still standing. (he’s safe now) Ex-BL/i officials are still alive, (he’s safe now) and all the people who surely hate him too, (he’s safe now) they all continue to live parallel lives to his. (he’s safe now-) How can he denounce his peril when that peril still walks healthy somewhere in this world?

Fight or flight drills into him. But with no one there to fight but himself, his chest breaks.

Coherence fades and he loses track of his mantra. Is it that he’s safe? Or was it just that he’d reminded himself tonight of all the righteous fear he’d repressed?

Is it the danger or the safety that’s real?

He can’t remember. But regardless he’s sick to his stomach with the knowledge that he and Vinyl will both be dead soon. Or _was_ it the other way around? Were they actually okay? He can’t see in front of himself, his disorganized thoughts coat his eyes like a thick mucus.

Val feels Vinyl kiss his forehead and get up to leave. Still frozen in place, panic stampedes through his body. He manages to grasp at the present moment again just long enough to recall that he and Vinyl have strategies for how to deal with situations like these, situations where they lose themselves. And though he can’t actually think of what they are right now, he trusts Vinyl. Even if it’s the only thing he can manage, he can manage that. With no gun by his side or mask to hide behind, he has to trust Vinyl, he has no choice.

This isn’t the first time Val has gotten stuck in a flashback like this, he remembers that now. He and Vinyl have been living together for almost a year at this point, he remembers that. All that this nightmare is is his trauma dragging him down again and for a minute he can think rationally enough to know that.

But then the horrors get loud again. Absent from his field of vision, Vinyl is as good as gone to him now. Dead even. And Val would be sitting here cemented in place waiting for him to return until the end of time. Everyone’s as good as dead, only he’s left alive, the empty room around him is all he knows, it’s his world, it’s his prison, and all his friends and family, vanished from his sight, are dead and gone and turned to dust elsewhere, it’s just him waiting out his own death, just him, just him and a faceless city standing over what corpses he can recognize.

A gentle kiss planted against his temple snaps him out of it marginally. Through blurred vision he sees that Vinyl returned, of course, standing there at the foot of their bed. He delicately picks up Val’s hands and presses an ice cube into them. He wraps Val’s hands around it tightly and then holds them together firmly in his own. Instantly Val is pulled back into himself, the cold shock against his skin grounding him finally.

Val breathes a sigh of relief. He can feel the real world again. The sharp dryness of the ice in his calloused palms is unpleasantly cold, but he squeezes it tighter, the static aftershocks in his head now fading. Val is soothed by Vinyl’s heavy hands still cupped around his own.

He can hear the real world again too, though he hadn’t even realized he couldn’t before. The night’s peaceful silence holds inside it the soft chirping of crickets outside and Vinyl’s gentle breath across from him. A busted air conditioner hums faintly a room over.

And he can see the real world again. Darkness blankets Val from all sides like a thick comforter, broken only by the muted orange light of the lamp backlighting him. Facing him, Vinyl’s soft overcast eyes ground him further with their affectionate gaze.

“Thank you,” Val chokes out, grateful.

Vinyl smiles in relief, reassured that he’s okay again.

He pulls Val’s clasped hands up against his mouth and kisses the top of them softly. Then he lets go and crawls up onto the bed again to join Val by his side.

Still holding onto the half-melted ice cube like a lifeline, Val leans into Vinyl, exhausted. As Val lays across his lap, Vinyl drags up the edges of the blanket they’re sitting on, wrapping it around both of them. Val closes his eyes, already drifting off back to sleep. Everything is calm again.

Vinyl loving brushes Val’s shaggy bedhead out of his face. It’s not so apparent in this lighting, but the red dye is fading. Vinyl’s been noticing in the sunlight how Val’s abrupt white roots are showing again, and how a great deal of his head is now more a pinkish color than anything. The steady change makes him happy, it makes both of them happy, because it’s proof that even if their past has burrowed itself into them, time still moves forward.

One day Val’s hair will be all white again, natural and healthy. There’ll be no more reminder left there from his dangerous killjoy days.

One day the past will be the past and BL/i’s grip over them will fade for good.

Vinyl blissfully lays down on his back, sinking into their cushioned mattress. He draws Val up to his chest where he continues to sleep soundly in Vinyl’s arms, cloaked in their quilted blanket. To the comforting pressure of his beloved resting on him, Vinyl falls asleep.


End file.
